A Collection of Stuff
by thesociallyawkwardtwins
Summary: Two sisters, three more prompts, seven days... Prompt Seven: Gale and another girl are reaped instead of Katniss and Peeta. Write a reaping and a goodbye scene.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: So guess what! SHIRLEY (AKA THE BEST TWIN EVER) WROTE SOMETHING WITH ME! We decided to do something of a fanfiction game between the two of us. We created three prompts, gave ourselves five days, and then wrote some stories! At the end of the week, we shared our writing! I thought that it would be super fun to put them up here for all of you to see!_

_So here's prompt number one. If this gets some response, then I'll put up the other two! _

* * *

_Prompt One: __Katniss was not reaped for the Seventy Fourth Hunger Games. Two years later, this is her last reaping._

* * *

**Katniss's Last Reaping by Biffy-**

Katniss puts on her reaping clothes one last time. It has a certain sort of finality to it, doing those buttons up for the final time. If she doesn't get reaped today, then she'll never have to put this dress on ever again. She'll never have to clothe herself in worry and stand in that line, praying for certain names not to be called…

If only that were true. If only it _was _the last time.

But it'll just keep going on forever and ever. Prim will be in the reaping for four more years, and by that time, Vick and Rory will both be in the reaping, and Posy won't be far behind them— It's no wonder Gale still worries even though he's been out of the reaping for two years.

Katniss shakes her head, trying to clear away those thoughts. There's no pointing in worrying about that all right now. Worry is wasteful. She just needs to focus on putting on a confident smile so that Prim doesn't know she's scared out of her mind. Although, at fourteen, Prim knows a lot more than Katniss gives her credit for (she's not the little girl she used to be).

Mrs. Everdeen finishes pinning up Prim's braided hairstyle, and the house falls into a tense silence.

Katniss's clears her throat and smiles slightly. "Ready to go?"

Prim nods.

/

The Hawthornes and the Everdeens meet up in the square. Rory is the only Hawthorne in the reaping, but it still worries Katniss. It's not like Gale would ever allow Rory to take out extra tesserae, but the fact that his name is in the bowl at all scares the breath out of Katniss.

Once the Everdeens get close enough, Katniss locks her eyes on Gale's. It's almost too painful to look at him when his eyes light up with a certain sort of fear. She knows these reapings get to him. She knows he feels helpless, but at least _she's_ glad he's out of the reaping. If Gale was still in the reaping, Katniss would be a million times more terrified.

Gale buries Katniss in a tight hug the second she's within arm's length. With his strong arms around her, she feels safer than she has in a long time. She pulls her arms free from within their embrace and returns his hug by wrapping her arms around his back. He kisses her temple and then lowers his lips to her ear.

"How many times are you in today?" he asks, his voice pained.

Katniss bites her lip. "Would it be better if I—"

"I'd rather know," Gale says in a hard voice. "I don't want to guess."

Katniss lets out a long-held breath and sets her head against his chest, where she can hear his steady heartbeat. "Thirty-seven."

Gale's whole body tenses. (It gets to him, see). "And Prim?"

"Only three," Katniss replies. She tips her head back so she can smile up at him. "Did you honestly think I'd let her take more tesserae?"

Gale's worry breaks a little at her smile, and he rolls his eyes. "Of course not."

Effie Trinket's voice sounds throughout the whole square, effectively cutting off all conversations, splintering thoughts into a million shards. "Would everyone please proceed to their rightful positions, thank you!" she chirps, and Katniss can feel her smile through the speakers.

Gale's arms tighten around her for a second, like he never wants to let her go, but then he moves his hands to her shoulders. "Please don't get picked today," he says.

Katniss tries to grin back, but it comes up half-hearted. "I won't."

/

Gale keeps looking at her down there in that line, and it makes him feel hollow inside. Of course, there's an unquantifiable amount of worry for Prim and Rory, but they're at a distance from the stage (back there, they seem safe, out of reach). Katniss is looking straight up at the reaping bowl, staring down a nightmare. Gale remembers that at his last reaping he could practically read the names on the slips of paper that swam in the bowl. He could see the shimmer of glitter on Effie Trinket's talons.

It would feel better if he was standing in line with her. He might feel a little less helpless.

There's so much riding on this reaping. In fact, Gale's entire future rides on this reaping. It's a sort of unspoken rule that no couples go into the reaping together (just in case). It just seems impractical that you should leave the possibility of your girlfriend or boyfriend getting reaped up to chance. It would be kinder for both parties involved if you would just wait to get together until after a name has been pulled from the reaping ball, but that unspoken rule always gets broken. And people always get their hearts smashed.

And Gale could get his heart smashed today, too, because Katniss isn't just his girlfriend. She's his whole universe. He needs her.

If she were to get reaped, he'd lose his mind. He might die in the Hunger Games as well, even though he's in no danger of getting reaped.

He _needs _her.

/

"Ladies first," Effie Trinket says in a fake, pleasant voice.

She makes her way over to the bowl with all the girls' names in it, and the clicking of her heels is almost deafening. She plunges her hand into the sea of names, swirls her hand around for the drama of it, and plucks a slip from within the depths.

Smiling, she makes her way back over the microphone.

Gale holds his breath. Katniss is holding hers, too.

"The female tribute is…" Effie says. She unfolds the paper. "Kat—"

Gale's world folds in on itself, tumbling, crashing, collapsing. Everything goes dark around the edges, and he starts to unravel. Katniss sways on the spot (it's visible).

"—ianna Blackburn."

_Relief. _Gale's breath comes out hard, and he can sees Katniss's shoulders relax from all the way in the back of the crowd.

So close. _Too_ close.

/

"The male tribute is…" Effie says. It happens exactly as the girl's reaping did. "Markus Riddles."

Gale searches for Rory's face in the crowd. (It feels safe again.)

/

Miners get the day of the reaping off, something that Gale is thankful for. The idea behind it is that if your kid gets reaped and you're not working, you have to watch them walk on stage after their name gets killed, and then you head to the train station to watch them get sucked away at 200 mph. If the miners still had to work, the Capitol might miss out on some of the emotional pain.

They thrive on it. (Thrive on putting the Districts down, anyway)

If your kid dies in the Hunger Games, then you also get the day off when their body gets carted back to the District. (Again, they thrive on your pain).

Anyway, Gale's thankful to be able to hole himself up in his home and watch his siblings act like children. Everyone feels better after the reapings over, because, for a second, the threat of the Hunger Games is missing. Sure, it'll be back as fast as the sun rises tomorrow, but for now, they can be happy children.

Gale's mind is consumed by something, though. He keeps thinking about how his heart almost stopped beating when he thought Katniss's name was going to be read. He keeps thinking about how dark it got and how hopeless everything felt. He keeps thinking about how incredibly close it all was.

That's what drives him out of the house. It's a hot, sticky summer evening—one where the air hangs heavy in the air like a tangible fog. It's also silent. There's no one out but Gale. Everyone else is shut up in their homes, shutters drawn shut against the Capitol.

Gale wouldn't have left his house either, but he just keeps thinking about losing her, and it hurts too much.

/

Katniss thinks of two possibilities for who could be at the door. Peacekeepers or Gale.

Luckily it's Gale.

With a tremor of relief, Katniss immediately slips outside to meet him on the beaten-up, sagging porch. She's hardly got the door shut before Gale pulls her against his chest and hugs her so tightly she can hardly breathe. She holds him as hard as she possibly can as well, thinking about how she could have lost him (lost everything) today. She never wants to let him go. She never wants to have a last embrace.

"Gale," she breathes softly, her voice muffled against his shirt.

"It was too close today," Gale whispers back after a second. "Too close."

"I know," Katniss replies in a heavy voice. "But nothing happened. I'm here now."

"I just keep thinking…" Gale says quietly. "I keep thinking about how easily they can take things away, you know. They'd probably have loved for you to get reaped so that they could see just how heartbroken it would make the two of us. It's just a show to them, but for us—"

"I know, Gale, I _know," _Katniss says, silencing him as panic starts to set in inside of her. "I don't want to think about that right now. I just… We're both out of the reaping now, and for a whole year we can be safe, right?"

"But there are so many other ways that they kill us, Katniss," Gale says.

"And what's the point of worrying about that?" she replies swiftly. "Worrying about it and trying to prepare for it isn't going to soften the blow any if I were to lose you! I can't even think about how messed up I'd be. You're practically my life, Gale! I don't want to sit here and imagine all the ways the Capitol can take you away from me."

"Marry me," Gale says immediately, the words falling out of his lips, unchecked and uncontrolled.

Katniss's jaw drops.

"I love you so much, and you're out of the reaping now, and I just can't wait any longer and—"

"Yes."

"Yes?" Gale smiles a real smile.

"Of course, Gale!" Katniss practically shouts (it echoes around the silence). "I'd marry you in a heartbeat!"

Gale pulled Katniss back against him for a long kiss, and, for a couple of seconds, he forgot completely about reapings. About the Capitol. About evil in general.

For a second, there was only Katniss.

* * *

**Prompt One Shirley-style {Gale's pov}:**

"Katniss Everdeen, will you marry me?"

By the look on her face, I can tell I've surprised her. She was not expecting this. She drops her bow on the ground and covers her mouth with her hand, her eyes transfixed on the gold band in my hand. For a few seconds, she just stares at it like she can't believe it's there.

And then finally, resolutely, she nods.

I feel a smile creeping onto my face. "Is that a yes?"

"Yes." She nods frantically. "_Yes._ Yes, Gale, I will marry you." An uncharacteristic smile creeps onto her face, and she holds out her hand. As I put the ring on her finger, I can't stop myself from laughing. "What?" she asks.

"I was honestly expecting a 'no,'" I say. "Or maybe an 'I'll think about it, Gale.'"

"Gale!" she shrieks, smacking my arm. "How could I say no?" She presses her lips against mine and tangles her fingers in my hair. I wrap my arms around her and lift her off the ground. She laughs against my lips. "I love you, Gale."

"I love you, Katniss."

Katniss Hawthorne. I like the sound of that. I know she's spent practically her entire life convincing herself that she would never marry, and I know I never imagined myself marrying her, but somehow we got here. Somehow, we worked our way into each other's hearts.

Katniss pulls away slightly. "I have to go." Somehow we've ended up on the forest floor. My jacket's been cast aside. Her braid is completely undone.

"Why?" I whisper, pressing my lips against hers again.

"I have to go," she insists with a laugh. "The reaping's probably about to start." She kisses my cheek and pries herself out of my grasp. "I'll see you in a bit."

I wait until she's disappeared into the trees before I get up and follow her.

My mom's been eyeing since I stepped into my house. I had to stand outside for a few seconds to compose myself and stifle my smile. You're not supposed to be happy on reaping day. And I'm not generally happy on a normal day anyway.

The second I stepped inside she swooped down on me like a hawk and hasn't left me alone even now that we've left the house.

I figured Katniss and I should be telling our families together, so I can't just blurt out that I asked her to marry me. Besides, you're not supposed to be happy on reaping day. Especially when your fourteen-year-old brother is in the bowl way more than he should be and it's your twelve-year-old brother's first year.

I find Katniss is the mob of reaping-age children in seconds. She's in the front this year- it's her last reaping after all. I wish I could find any happiness in this, but I know it will just never end. Prim and Rory won't be out for another four years. Vick will be in for another six. By that point, it will almost be Posy's turn. Really, by that point, Katniss and I might be dreading our own children's twelfth

She throws her arms around my neck, not even bothering to conceal her wide smile. I can feel the cold strip of metal on her finger as it brushes the back of my neck.

"Have you told anyone?" I whisper in her ear.

She shakes her head. "Not yet. You?"

"No. After the reaping?" I suggest.

She nods, her smile growing again.

Up on stage, Effie Trinket announces that the reaping will be beginning soon.

Katniss throws her arms around me again. "I've never been happier in my life," she whispers.

"Me either."

She releases me and hurries off towards her spot in line. I join my mom and Posy back behind the ocean of terrified children. My mom looks sick with worry. I search for Vick and Rory in the crowd of boys. I find Katniss and Prim with all the girls.

My stomach clenches with worry, and I silently pray that they all get out safe even though I know everyone else in the square is doing the same.

"And this year's female tribute is…..Katniss Everdeen."

* * *

_A/N: There you go- one prompt, two different ways! If you found any grammar mistakes or you found these to be slightly rough and unedited, that's because five days did not allot time for rereading and editing! haha... Anyway, if this one gets a lot of response, then I'll put up the other two! They're pretty entertaining, I must say!_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Whoa, thanks for all the great responses to the first prompt! I'm glad you enjoyed reading it as much as Shirley and I had writing them. Sorry for the late update, but finals... _

_Anyway, here's prompt two. For all the Gale fans out there that started reading this because you love Galeniss, this is gonna be a totally weird update for you, especially coming from me and Shirley (the most hardcore Galeniss shippers). For some reason, we both decided to ship Gale with someone else for these stories... It was a weird experience, but I enjoyed it. Shirley's only comment on hers was, "You know, y'all, this started out as a joke. And then it took over. Biffy wrote some awesome Johale and I'm like, how about Gale and Coin? Why not? Who cares if it's kind of rape-y? I hope you all like it. Because I did. In a really messed up sort of way."_

_Please enjoy regardless of who you ship! _

* * *

_Prompt Two: Weird/underappreciated pairing of your choice. Takes place during Mockingjay. _

* * *

**Soldiers by Biffy {Gale pov}**

Sometimes I think that the only time he gets peace is when he's dead asleep under the power of heavy, narcotic drugs. He has to be out cold before the nightmares stop wrecking his sleep, and it's not often that they use the medications, so he must be fighting all the time. But I guess since it's midnight, they just felt bad for him and gave him the drugs.

So now Peeta can have his peace, and I can have my personal hell.

It's nice and dark here on this side of the glass. The only light that comes in is from the blue, glowing machines that are located around Peeta's bed and sliver of white light that barely forces its way through the crack beneath the door. Distantly, I can hear Peeta's heart monitor beeping along with his pulse, but I can barely make it out above the sound of my own thoughts.

Peeta, who is so perfect and good, is lying in a hospital bed, mentally and physically broken almost beyond repair, and yet I, a soldier with a little bit less of a moral compass than I started out with, continue to live. No, not live. _Survive._ I continue to survive just fine.

It seems absurd to me and entirely unfair, so I can only imagine how she sees it. Katniss, I mean.

I will never stand a chance in her heart. No matter how many times she's insisted that she loves me, I know that the moment she really gets to see Peeta, everything will change. She hates the feeling of owing other people, and she owes almost everything to the man lying unconscious on the hospital bed across the glass from me.

In the sense of our rivalry, he's still perfect (if a little messed up), and I'm still nothing.

The door next to me slides open, and I immediately jump to my feet, expecting someone higher in ranks. But instead I find Johanna Mason, the tortured Victor. It's been a month since we rescued her from the Capitol, and she's much more stable than the other captives, but they still keep her here in the hospital. They must not keep her locked up too tightly, though, since she's prone to wandering.

"Hello, Gorgeous," she says in a sarcastic voice as she slides into the chair next to the one I was sitting in. She gestures at my seat. "There's no need to treat me like the president. You may sit."

Sighing slightly, I sit back down. I keep my gaze mostly focused on the other side of the glass, but I can't help but glance at Johanna every once and a while. The blue light coming from the monitors casts weird shadows on her face and makes her already angular face appear even more hollow. She has a strange smile on her lips as she stares overtly at me.

"So, what are doing down here watching Peeta, Commander Gorgeous?" Johanna asks. She reclines back in her seat and throws her feet up on my lap, crossing her ankles.

"I could ask you the same thing," I reply tiredly. The last thing I want to do is share my personal problems with this Victor who has called me only "Gorgeous" during the few moments that we've interacted since she arrived here in District Thirteen.

"And I have an answer," she says, crossing her arms over her chest. "Do you?"

"Probably," I reply evenly. I try to turn my chair slightly to face her, but the fact that her ankles are crossed in my lap sort of prevents me from moving.

"Oh, do _share_, Gorgeous," Johanna says in a slow voice.

In turning to face her, my eyes are forced to travel along the entire length of her long, exposed legs. The short hospital gown hardly covers five inches of her thighs, so if her legs weren't crossed, I would have a much more _interesting _view of Johanna Mason. I have to give her credit, though—for having been tortured ruthlessly for months, she's an incredibly attractive woman (despite being incredibly forward).

"After you tell me why you're here, Mason," I reply, jerking my gaze away from her endless legs. "And stop calling me gorgeous. I have a name."

"I don't bother with names, _Gorgeous,_" she says, drawing it out, smiling at her own boldness. I roll my eyes. "And I'm down here because I like checking in on my dear Peeta. We've bonded over this whole torture thing, and I just want to make sure he gets out of it okay." She glances at Peeta through the glass, but quickly turns back to me with a provocative raise of her eyebrow. "Now, what about you? Why are you here to watch over a man that you are obviously at odds with?"

"If you must know, Mason, the answer is: I have no idea," I say without giving it much thought. "I honestly have no idea why I come here. To torture myself maybe?"

I regret my choice of words. _Torture._

But it rolls right off Johanna like she doesn't even care. "To think?" she suggests.

"Maybe I just enjoy thinking about all ways in which I can never match up to Peeta," I say, the words suddenly flowing out of my mouth, uncontrolled. "Maybe somewhere in the sick recesses of my being, I like beating myself up."

"So you come here to compare yourself to him?" Johanna asks, her tone genuinely curious. "That's really sad."

I shoot her a glare even though I know it's true.

"If it's worth anything at all, I think you measure up beyond Peeta," she comments.

I shoot her another glare, but the look on her face says she's serious. I find myself immediately uncomfortable under her gaze, so I turn back towards the glass. Peeta continues to sleep on, silent and calm as any unconscious person can ever be.

"But he's so perfect," I say. Not sure why I say it. "How can I possibly win? How can Katniss possibly love me?"

"Screw what Katniss thinks," Johanna says smoothly. "She's crazy."

"We're all crazy," I reply.

"That I cannot deny… But Katniss is a different kind of crazy. Maybe she and Peeta belong together. They can wallow in their mutual inability to handle reality."

Johanna pulls herself a little bit closer to me using her feet that are still resting in my lap, and, for some odd reason, I find it okay to put one of my hands down on her shin. It's not like she minds, though.

"We're a different breed of crazy, you and me," she says. "We're just a little damaged, but at least we're strong enough to handle all the shit life throws at us."

"We're soldiers," I comment, the words falling out of the floodgate.

"Precisely," she says, pulling herself all the way over so that she's right next to me. If her knees weren't leaning sideways against my chest, I would have that interesting view I was thinking about earlier. "We lose people we love."

"True," I say. I'm thinking about my dad, but I think she's talking about Katniss.

After a second or two of silence (in which I don't attempt to get her out of my personal space), she leans forward to put her chin on her knees. With her face mere inches from mine she says, "Are you sure you're in love with Katniss or are you just in love with the girl you used to know?"

Her question astounds me. It's true. Somewhere along the lines, I've lost the Catnip that I fell in love with. Between the Hunger Games and the Quarter Quell and Peeta's capture, I totally lost my Catnip. Now she's just a shell of the girl I love. Loved. We're both so damaged and separate at this point that it's almost like we're different people. Johanna's completely right. I'm only in love with the girl I used to know.

"That's what I thought," Johanna says, her smile so close to my lips. She must have been able to see the realization in my eyes.

For a second, I feel like I've lost my purpose. How sad is that? My never ending chase of Catnip has become one of the major focuses of my life, and now I've lost it… "Where does that leave me?" I ask Johanna, since she seems to know me extremely well for only having talked to me four or five times.

"Fighting," Johanna replies easily. "You're a soldier after all, aren't you?"

"Just a soldier, huh?"

"Well, I'm also a soldier, just like you," she reminds me. "I've fought the Capitol, and guess what? I'm alone as shit, too."

Smiles break across both of our faces, and the sound of our laughter echoes around the silence. One of my hands finds her leg again, and suddenly the space between our lips seems much smaller. It hardly takes any decision on my part to close the distance and pull Johanna Mason in for a kiss. And even though Johanna's a sexual being and she insists on calling me gorgeous, it's a quiet kiss. One shared between two broken soldiers trying to pick themselves up for the next battle.

It's a nice kiss.

After a second, Johanna pulls back and sets her chin back on her knee. My thumb still traces her jaw. There's a smirk on her lips and a matching smile on mine.

"You're a good kisser, Gorgeous," she comments as she drops her feet back to the ground. Her hospital gown has ridden up over her thighs, and I don't mind.

"Good," I reply, laughing. "I'm glad you won't have to suffer every time you kiss me." I make sure to say something that tells her I hope that's not our last encounter.

"Me, too." She gets my meaning. She stands up ever so slowly and kisses me one more time on the top of my head. "I'll see you around, Commander Gorgeous. Don't let the Mockingjay get you down."

"See you around," I reply, and she slips out of the room.

* * *

**One of Us Has To Be Accessible by Shirley {Gale pov}**

"Solider Hawthorne, can I see you in my office for a second?"

I bristle, wishing I could just slip out the door and pretend I didn't hear. The way she says it… _God, not again_. I think about leaving, but I know she's watching. She's always watching. Instead, I quietly follow her into her office. Katniss walks past me, looking confused. Her eyes ask a million question. _What have I done?_ _Why does Coin want me in her office? _I want to tell her that she didn't even need to include the office part, but I don't. I just shrug.

The door slides shut behind me, and my heart starts beating faster. I feel like a caged animal.

"Why don't you take a seat?" she says. Her voice is oddly sweet- a sharp contrast to the clipped tone she usually uses. But I still don't dare disobey her.

She doesn't take a seat herself. She stands off to the side. Her penetrating gray eyes never leave me.

"What did you want to see me about?" I ask through clenched teeth.

"Oh, I think you can answer that yourself," she says. "You're smart. It's why we keep you here."

I cringe. I don't understand how she could be so _obvious._ It's not like I don't notice how she's always watching. How I'm always invited to her meetings. How she asks for my opinions even though I'm nothing but a simple soldier from District 12.

She walks around her desk and sits on the edge of it. We're so close now. Her leg brushes mine. It takes all I have in me not to run for the door I know is locked.

"I ought to promote you," she says. I look away from her. "It's a shame to waste this brain." Her finger brushes my cheek, my jaw. "This face." She takes my chin and makes me look at her. There's little emotion in her eyes. "What would you think of that?"

"A promotion?" I repeat, hedging.

"Yes." Her finger slips from my chin, and I look away again.

"I'm fine where I am, I think," I say sharply. "Authority doesn't suit me."

"Oh, I think it does," she says. Her finger runs across the collar of my shirt. They're cold as ice, her fingers. Cold like her heart. They trail down my chest, touching the buttons of my regulation 13 shirt.

"What did you want to see me about?" I repeat.

"I have a favor to ask of you, Soldier Hawthorne," she says. "Would you do it for me?"

"Do what?"

"I need you to keep an eye on the Mockingjay for me," she says.

"The Mockingjay?"

"Yes," she says. "Katniss Everdeen. You are friends, aren't you?"

_Is that why you're doing this to me? Preying on me because I'm close to the Mockingjay? Trying to get to Katniss through me? _I bite my tongue. Not the kind of questions you ask the leader of the rebellion. Not somebody with this much leverage over you.

"Why?" I ask tightly.

"I need you to make sure she stays in line," Coin says. "Make sure she's following my orders."

"Why me?"

"You're closest to her," she reasons. "You know her best. Besides…she seems…_fond_ of you."

Fond of me. An odd choice of words. Although, I'm not even sure how to classify our relationship as of late. Complicated.

"Will you do it?" The commanding tone is slipping back.

I don't respond.

"Gale." God, my name. "Will you do it for me?"

Her hand falls to my knee.

_No. _I want to say no. No.

She moves her hand farther up my thigh. Farther.

No. _No._ I won't.

Farther. Farther.

"Stop." I finally break. I stand up so quickly my chair almost falls to the floor.

The door to Coin's office slides open, and one of her trusted guard enters. He looks between the two of us. Perhaps he knows what's going on. Perhaps I'm not the only solider that has captured the mayor's attentions.

"I have information for you, Mayor Coin," the guard says, ignoring me.

Coin recomposes herself. "Yes, of course." She turns to me. "You may go, Soldier Hawthorne. We'll speak later."

_Like hell we will._

I leave the room as quickly as I can. I'm not even paying attention to where I'm walking when I run right into Katniss.

"What did Coin want with you?" Katniss asks.

I swallow. "She wanted to talk to me…about a promotion."

"When did you two get buddy-buddy?" she asks, looking irritated.

I sigh. She doesn't know half of it. "One of us has to be accessible."

* * *

_A/N: So there you go! Hopefully the pairings weren't too weird for you, and I hope you stick around for the next (and final) prompt! There will definitely be more twin challenges written in the future! If you have any ideas for a prompt that you'd like to give us, just leave it in a review or PM me! We'd love to take suggestions! The only restrictions are nothing M rated. And no Peeta/Gale slash- I already vetoed that. (Shirley: "awwwww"). Just kidding. but seriously, nothing M rated. _

_the next prompt will be up soon :)_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Hello everyone! Thank you for all the great responses to the last chapter! I'm so excited that you all liked the strange pairings or at least appreciated them just a little ;) You all are seriously the best! _

_Also, thanks to everyone who left prompt ideas in their reviews! We might use a couple of them in the future! If any more ideas strike your fancy, leave them in a review or PM me, as always!_

_And for those of you who are wondering if we're going to continue any of the prompt ideas into multi-chapter stories, the answer is no for right now. It's definitely an option for the future, but for the moment, Shirley and I both have problems devoting ourselves to longer stories. But you know what we _can_ devote ourselves to: one-shots!_

_For the Galeniss shippers out there (my lovelies), my story is definitely up your alley, so don't be thrown off by the prompt! And I find Shirley's story to just be seriously hilarious! Peeta fans (if you're still reading this) be warned! Just laugh and roll with it!_

* * *

_Prompt Three: Peeta kisses Katniss. Gale sees. What ensues?_

* * *

**Undone by Biffy (Gale pov)-**

"You don't have much competition anywhere."

Kantiss and Peeta fall against each other, and their lips meet.

A thousand miles away from the arena, on the opposite side of the country, I am undone by their kiss. It opens me up and rips out my heart in a way I never thought possible. I want nothing more than to tear my eyes from the screen and to never look back, but I can't stop watching as my little Catnip shares her first kiss on national television (with someone who is not me). It's too personal—to intimate— of a moment for us to be seeing, and yet I want nothing more than to reach through the screen and slash them apart.

It burns me up inside because I know she's gone, and I've lost my chance. How many times did I have a chance to capture her lips in mine, and I let them slip by untaken? How could I have been so cowardly? I missed my chance, and worse off—she could die at any moment, weakened by sentiment and love.

_If I had kissed her before she left, would she be weakened by the sentiment and love of me?_

I'll never know because I'm burning with remorse. Of all the actions I never took. Of all the courage I never had.

Does she just want a kiss before she dies—just in case— so that she wouldn't go without the experience? I want to stop thinking about the possibility of her death since she's come so far and there are so few tributes left, but it's an ever-present thought, especially now that Peeta's dragging her down, weakening her. Maybe she's kissing him out of pity or maybe because she's afraid or maybe because she really does want to do it before she dies?

_I hope she knows that if she comes home in a casket, I'd kiss her dead lips anyway, no matter how much it hurts._

Or maybe she's kissing him because she actually loves him.

It's agony.

They break apart only when they hear the thump of a parachute outside, and there's a smile— a real smile— on both of their faces.

A thousand miles away from the arena, on the opposite side of the country, I am undone by their kiss.

* * *

**Prompt Three Shirley Style (Peeta pov)-**

"So what was it that you needed to tell me, Peeta?"

I don't even really hear the words. I just watch her pink chapped lips form the words. My eyes trace the curve of her cheek, her sharp eyebrows. Her penetrating gray eyes send shivers down my spine. All I want to do is just reach out and touch her dark braid.

_You know, Peeta, _I think, _maybe…_

Gale's face appears in my head, and I panic again. As always, I find myself transfixed by his beautiful eyes. By his well-cut jaw. And his muscular arms.

I shake my head. _Stop it, Peeta. Bisexual is not an option. You gotta pick a team._

That's why I'm here with Katniss. I've got to decide if I'm straight but gay for only Gale or if I'm gay but straight for only Katniss. I honestly can't tell because the only two people that I'm attracted to in this entire district are Katniss and Gale, and they're pretty much a male and female version of the same person, so that doesn't really help me.

"Peeta?" God, I love the way my name sounds with her voice. It's so…sexy.

_Do it now, Peeta. Grow some balls and do it now._

Before I can stop myself, I kiss her.

To my surprise, she doesn't push me away. She just tenses up like she wasn't expecting. I mean, I wasn't really expecting it either but yeah. I figured, you know, sense this was my shot, I just bit the bullet and reached out and touched her braid like I'd always wanted to.

And then…and then she sort of kissed me back. Which was like _whoa, not expecting that_, but then it happened. She ran her hands through my hair. She kissed me rough. And I just wasn't sure what to do with my hands. This being the only time I'd ever really kissed a girl, I wasn't really sure what to do with my hands. Is that a normal question I'm supposed to be asking as I kiss a girl? Why am I…why am I not like…turned on? Am I turned on? I'm pretty sure the only thing I'm feeling right now is surprise that she's kissing me back.

"What the _hell?_"

Katniss stumbles away from me and trips backwards over a chair. To my horror, Gale has just walked in. What perfect timing. My gay crush walks in during my experimental straight shot.

"Hey, Gale," Katniss says from the floor. She props herself up on her elbows and sends him a sheepish smile.

"What the hell is going on?" he repeats.

"Um…Peeta kissed me so-"

Gale turns on me, his sexy gray eyes flaming. He looks so mad….but attractive. Dang it. Maybe I am gay. Crap. But I also know he could snap me in half like a twig if I made him the slightest bit angry, and I think I just did by making out with his sister/friend/girlfriend.

"Why did you even think you could touch her…" he growls. _His voice_. He comes closer to me, and I can practically hear his shirt sleeves screaming under the extreme pressure of his muscular arms. When I tune back into what he's saying, I hear him say, "You better stay away from her. If you think-"

For some reason, I decide to start talking. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean anything by it!"

If I thought he was hot when he's mad… Now he's irate. "Oh, you didn't mean anything by it?"

And then it explodes out of me. "I'm gay!"

Katniss, who's still on the ground, looks shocked. "Whoa. Surprise."

"So you thought you'd just- what? Mess around with her feelings?"

"No! That's not what I meant! I just-"

I think he was coming at me to, like, strangle me or something, but I kissed him anyway. You know. For good measure.

And I liked that a lot. Yes. I liked that a lot.

Well…I liked it for two seconds. And then he punched me in the face.

/

When I woke up, I wondered for a second if it was only a dream. But then I realized my face felt like it had been broken into many different pieces.

I solemnly reached my hand towards my face and felt my swollen nose.

One burning tear slipped its way through the crack that was my eye and rolled down my swollen check onto my pillow, and I suddenly knew what my sexuality was.

* * *

_A/N: So... is Peeta gay or straight? (Shirley would love to hear your thoughts). Thanks for reading and let us know any prompt ideas!_

_AND GUESS WHAT! Since it's finally winter break, Shirley and I have started another fanfiction challenge, and the first one will be up by Monday! Woot woot! See you all then ;)_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Hello all! As promised, here is the beginning of the winter break fanfiction challenge! Bear in mind that these fanfictions were written in like two days, so they could be a grammatical disaster area, but hopefully that does not detracted from the wonderful, fluffy Galeniss that lies below! _

_A note on Biffy's fanfiction: I always assumed that the Victory Tour took place in mid-November, and my story begins just before that, so that should give you an idea of the timing of the plot and such. _

_Enjoy :)_

* * *

_Prompt Four: Christmas in Panem_

* * *

**The Merriest Christmas [Katniss pov] by Biffy-**

"Merry Christmas, Catnip," Gale says when I open the front door.

There's a bright smile on his lips that stands out against his coal-blackened face, and I can see a lightly playful glint in his dark gray eyes. A gust of cold wind makes the snow dance behind him, flying up to cling to his thin coat.

And that's precisely when I realize what he's brought with him.

His entire family and a Christmas tree.

There must be a priceless look of shock on my face because Gale lets out a pleased laugh that fills me with an unexplainable warmth despite the cold slipping into my house through the open door.

"You gonna let us in or what?" he teases me.

"Of course, of course," I say hurriedly, stepping out of the doorway. "Come right in."

The amount of happiness and familiarity that the Hawthornes bring into the house along with the Christmas tree is insurmountable. They track in snow on the nice hardwood, and Gale and Rory probably scratch all the walls with the branches of the tree as they carry it inside, but the thing is—I honestly don't care. This pristine, perfect house in the Victor's Village will never be my home, but the little puddles of water in the hallway and the smile on Posy's face reminds me that I do still have a home as long as the Hawthornes are around.

Gale and Rory manage to get the tree into the den without too much difficulty, and I really can't wipe the smile of unbridled joy off my face.

"Do you have decorations or at least a tree stand in this gigantic house of yours?" Gale asks me. His eyes are twinkling because he knows he's brought me out of my deep gloom.

"I have no idea," I reply. Goodness knows that we only kept a small box of ornaments after my father's death, and that hardly counts as anything. However, these houses in the Victor's Village are pretty well stocked, so I wouldn't doubt it if there are Christmas decorations tucked away somewhere. "We could check the attic. There's bound to be something up there."

"I can come help you, if you want," Gale offers.

"That would be great," I say, attempting to make it seem as though we're not just trying to get a moment alone.

Hazelle and the rest of Gale's siblings know well enough to make themselves at home, so Gale and I just slip into the hallway and up the stairs. We make it all the way to the hallway below the attic entrance before I say something.

"You know, Gale, you never cease to amaze me," I say, reaching up to pull the trapdoor open.

A brilliant smile breaks across Gale's face. "That's something I never thought I'd be able to do."

"I'm serious," I say. He doesn't know the magnitude of the power he has over me. Or the magnitude of the greatness and strength in his ability to never stop thinking of others above himself. I mean, he spends six days of the week in the deep pits of hell in the mines, and yet he turns up on my doorstep with a Christmas tree… If our roles were reversed, I would never have given a single thought to bring him a Christmas tree. "You _never _cease to amaze me."

Tugging the cord that dropped down with the trapdoor, I pull the folding ladder down so that we can go into the attic. Gale, with half a laugh on his lips, gestures for me to go up first, and he follows immediately behind me.

I've only been up in the attic once or twice before now, just to check it out. There are a scattered few boxes placed all around under a thin layer of dust, so there must be some Christmas decorations somewhere around here.

"So Katniss, what have I done that's so amazing?" Gale asks, heading over to a pile of dusty boxes to start searching. "I brought you a Christmas tree to cheer you up before the Victory Tour. What's so amazing about that?"

I wheel around to face him. "Gale, it's been four years since I've had a tree at Christmas time. _Four years._ And you had no reason to be thinking about my need for a tree, but you did. That's why you amaze me."

"If our roles were reversed, you would have done the same," he says offhandedly.

"No, Gale, I wouldn't have!" I say. "Which is why I'm amazed by you!"

"Fine," he replies after a second, smiling. "I guess I'm pretty amazing."

And then, for some reason, I walk over to his side and bounce up onto my toes to kiss him on the cheek. It startles him at first, but then he smiles warmly, like nothing better has ever happened.

/

We find the decorations within ten minutes and head back downstairs with our arms full of colorful boxes.

When we enter the den, my mother and Prim have made their appearances, and it appears that they've located a tree stand because the tree's upright by itself in the corner.

All around, I can only see moments of pure joy.

My mother is carrying around a tray of hot chocolate, distributing a mug to everyone in the room. Rory and Vick are stringing popcorn into chains, and Hazelle is doing the same with some cranberries. Over by the tree, Prim is helping Posy staple paper rings into a garland. Someone has started playing Christmas music from the fancy Capitol music player that resides in the kitchen.

It's just pure joy, and I can honestly say I've never been happier.

/

The Hawthorne's don't leave until very late in the night, and, even then, Gale stays after they've gone. Eventually Mother and Prim go up to bed, too, leaving me and Gale alone by the tree. My hot chocolate has long since grown cold, but I still drink it for something to do.

"How much do I owe you for the tree?" I ask.

"Nothing," Gale replies immediately.

"Come on now," I say, rolling my eyes at him. "How much did it cost you?"

"Not much," he says, grinning at me. He looks back up at the tree, the lights reflecting in his eyes. "Your smile and the kiss were more than enough payment."

I feel my cheeks heat up, and I lift the mug to my lips to hide it. "Now, Gale, surely a few smiles and a single kiss isn't enough."

He shrugs playfully. "I don't know, Catnip. Maybe I need one more kiss to break even."

"That sounds reasonable," I say.

I abandon my mug of cold hot chocolate and crawl over to where he's sitting on the ground. Before he can properly prepare himself, I kiss him right on the lips. To get back at me for catching him off guard, he pulls me into his lap and wraps his arms around my waist.

We kiss until the snow stops falling outside.

/

Two days later, I leave on the Victory Tour.

The memories of that night sustain me throughout the entire ordeal until we get to the Capitol. I hear some people talking at the party about all the wonderful, expensive gifts that they got their children for Christmas, and it strikes a cord in my head.

My mind instantly goes to paying Gale back for the Christmas tree.

I wander through the party until I find Effie Trinket.

"Who might I talk to if I wanted to purchase some Christmas presents?" I ask her.

She points me in the right direction.

/

On Christmas Eve, I receive a huge delivery of presents from the Capitol and spend the evening wrapping them in the beautiful wrapping paper I find in the attic.

/

At midnight, I throw all the presents in a giant sack and make my way to the Seam. No one is out besides me because of the light snow that's coming down, but I don't mind. I walk silently all the way to the Hawthorne's house and struggle through the snow drifts to the back door.

I know where the spare key is, so it isn't hard to sneak into their house without much noise.

Moving as silently as I possibly can, I lay all the presents around beneath the small Christmas tree and along the hearth.

I smile as I slip back out of the house.

/

I worry all day that Gale will be mad at me for doing it.

/

The doorbell rings at exactly ten pm on Christmas day.

I open the door, expecting Gale to start lecturing me about how I don't owe him anything and that I should never pay for any of his siblings' things ever again, but instead he immediately pulls me into a tight embrace.

"Thank you so much, you angel," he whispers in my ear, kissing my cheek and then my jaw.

"It's payment for the last hurrah you brought me before the Victory Tour," I say, smiling.

Gale laughs and kisses me on the lips as hard as he possibly can. I get lost in the kiss until Gale lifts me off the floor, and I have to wrap my legs around his waist to feel steady.

Gale kisses my collarbone and presses me up against the wall. "Do you have a Christmas present for me, Catnip?" he asks breathlessly.

"Of course," I reply in an equally breathless voice. "I think I left it upstairs in my room, come to think of it."

"Good," he says, holding onto me tighter as he moves towards the stairs. "I'd better unwrap it."

"You'd better," I say.

Then he's kissing me again, and I get lost in the merriest of Christmases.

* * *

_Shirley's note: You know me. I ship Galeniss and hate Peeta with a fiery passion, but for some reason, I really like writing from his perspective. Especially when it's about Galeniss. I just write him about as pathetic as I can make him. _

**Christmas in Panem [Peeta's pov] by Shirley-**

It's a white Christmas here in District 12. Big, fat snowflakes are falling past the window. I wish I could go stand outside, but I know my mom would kill me. I really do like the snow. The white color is a nice change from our perpetual gray. Sooner or later I know it's going to mix with the coal dust and turn into an awful, black mess of slush, but it's nice while it lasts.

Outside the window, I hear laughter. A family bundled up in thick winter coats move through the square carrying brightly wrapped packages and bags. _Merry Christmas,_ I think wryly to myself. While other families spend time together and give each other gifts, where am I? In the bakery by myself, frosting the yule log cakes. It's freezing standing here by the window, and my hands are starting to ache from the cold and constantly squeezing piping bags. You'd think that I'd be allowed one day off of work, but mother said there were too many yule log cakes ordered for us to rest on Christmas.

Another voice catches my attention outside the window. It's Katniss. She and Gale are walking this way. They only come here to trade squirrels with my dad, but neither of them is carrying a hunting bag. Maybe it's just wishful thinking, but I do think they're coming here. They walk past the window, and Katniss's eyes flit across the glass. I duck down behind the counter before she can see I was watching.

I hear the bell above the door jingle, and a gust of cold winter air fills the room. _Great_, I think to myself. _Now I'm stuck behind this counter. I can't just sneak out on my hands and knees. They'll see me._ So I just stay where I am and breathe as quietly as I can.

"So, all Prim wanted for Christmas was one of these cakes?" Gale says, almost like he can't believe it.

Katniss laughs. That's a rare sound. I wish I could make her laugh… Actually, I should probably try talking to her first. "Yeah, that's all she wants."

"Wow, I respect a girl who asks for nothing but food for Christmas," Gale says. "She certainly makes it easy."

"That is assuming we can afford the cake," Katniss says.

"That's true. How much are they?"

Without thinking I pop up from behind the counter. Katniss's eyes widen, and she stumbles backwards into Gale. She laughs a little. "God, you scared me."

"Sorry," I say quickly. I mentally scold myself.

"Oh, it's fine," she says. "How much for the cake you're frosting."

I look up and see nervousness in her eyes. She's afraid she won't be able to afford it. Mother said to sell them for four coins, but I don't know if they can afford that. I don't want to upset her.

"Three coins," I say, praying my mother doesn't hear.

Katniss cringes. I see the disappointment, and I hate myself for it. She and Gale share a glance, and they start whispering. I can tell they don't want me to hear, so I turn around and start loudly mixing red icing.

"That's too much," Katniss whispers.

"Have you saved up three coins?" Gale asks.

"Yeah, but that's literally all we have."

It hurts me to hear that. Three coins. I see ten times that in one day. I hold at least thirty coins in my hand every day from customers paying and from my own family's money. I can't imagine what it must be like for them.

"Here," Gale says, "I have a few coins, and-"

"You are not going to pay for this," Katniss says sharply.

"No, look," he says. "I'll help pay, and we'll share it as a family."

"But-"

I can't listen to them argue anymore. "I'll give it to you for free."

They both freeze. "No, we'll pay for it," Gale says.

"I'm serious," I say. "I just remembered… Somebody called earlier and said they don't want this cake anymore. We need to get rid of it, and it seems like you need it." I'm lying so easily it's scary.

"We don't need charity," Katniss says sharply.

But I'm already putting the cake in a box. "It's not charity," I say. "You're practically helping me by taking it." I push the box across the counter towards them. "Besides…it's Christmas."

I look up, and Katniss is staring at me. I can see the snowflakes caught in her eyelashes.

Gale clears his throat, and Katniss starts. She takes two of her coins and drops them in the tip jar. Before I can say anything, she takes the box. "Thank you," she says, and she sends me the smallest smile.

A smile. A rare gift from Katniss Everdeen.

I didn't matter later that my mom found out I'd given it away for free. It didn't matter that she beat me with the rolling pin or that I spent Christmas hiding in my bedroom with a swollen lip and a bloody nose. It didn't matter. Because Katniss Everdeen smiled at me.

* * *

_A/N: I hope that everyone had the most wonderful Christmases (for those of you who celebrate it)! Thanks for stopping by, and there will be many more prompts posted in the coming weeks! Drop a review to let us know what you thought ;)_


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: How's this for a fast update ;) Thank you to everyone who continues to read and review this story! It makes me so happy when a review pops up in my inbox! _

_I would have posted this yesterday, but I just ran out of time. The titles for both of our stories are lines from Auld Lang Syne to fit with the theme. Also, these two stories were probably written in under an hour... so here's a testimonial to what Shirley and I can write in that amount of time. Enjoy, my fellow Galeniss shippers :)_

* * *

_Prompt Five: New Year's Eve. _

* * *

**There's a Hand, My Trusty Friend by Biffy-**

Madge Undersee's annual New Year's Eve party had less to do with the fact that Madge Undersee wanted to throw a party and more to do with the fact that she felt _obligated_ to throw the party—since she was the richest girl in the District and all. In fact, Madge was probably the person in the District who was the least inclined to "party," but the party still happened. Every single year.

And _everyone _went.

Madge's parents were always gone over New Year's. Mayor Undersee was required to attend all the end-of-the-year Capitol parties, and Mrs. Undersee was dragged along to seek better treatment for her headaches. Consequently, it was just Madge and the butler in their giant mansion, and it wasn't like the butler was going to tell her parents that their daughter threw a huge party every year. Madge always managed to clean up the damage well enough, and the mayor never really checked the amount of money he spent on alcohol every year (he had a stressful job, after all, which required quite a lot of straight up whiskeys at midnight), so Madge was in the clear.

It was an open invitation party— teens as old as Madge and above, Seam and merchant, poor or rich. Everyone showed up, even if they didn't want to. Anyway, that's how Katniss Everdeen always ended up there, with a red plastic cup full of whatever cheap beer she could get her hands on. For two years running, this party had been the cause of pure torture and regretful hangovers for Katniss, but one time, it actually went her way.

It went a little something like this:

The clock was clicking down to midnight, and Katniss was just waiting for the party to clear out so that she could leave without it being socially inacceptable. It seemed like everyone else was pairing off, getting ready for those midnight kisses that would last until the clock struck twelve-oh-one, but she was just sitting on the plush couch by herself. Well, she wasn't really by herself since someone was passed out on the other end of the couch, but she felt lonely all the same.

Katniss brought the red plastic cup up to her lips and swallowed back whatever liquid resided within it (she'd lost track of what she was drinking). Something landed hard on the couch, and it almost scared Katniss enough to drop her cup. It was Gale, who had plopped down between Katniss and the unconscious person on the other end of the couch.

"Have you been sitting here the whole time?" Gale asked, grinning at Katniss. He had a bottle of beer in his hands.

Katniss bristled and pulled her knees up to her chest, taking another swig from her cup. "So what if I have?"

"You're supposed to have fun at these things," Gale said, rolling his eyes. "That's sort of the purpose of a _party."_

Katniss crossed her arms over her chest and stared pointedly at the clock on the mantle of the Undersees' fancy fireplace. The minutes until midnight were counting down quickly. "Shouldn't you be annoying someone else," she said roughly. "Like, maybe, your _girlfriend_."

This seemed to frustrate Gale because he sat up straighter. "For the last time, Catnip, she's not my girlfriend."

"That's not what _she_ thinks," Katniss muttered under her breath, taking another swallow from her cup.

Gale gritted his teeth. "I'll have to set her straight then, won't I?"

"Why don't you?" Katniss asked harshly.

Gale leaned back into the couch and ran his hands down his thighs. "Because it's midnight. She might get the wrong idea."

Katniss rolled her eyes and glanced back up at the clock. Two minutes until midnight. "Isn't that what you're supposed to do, though? When the clock hits midnight, you kiss the person you like?"

"Well, I don't like her, if I can get that through your thick head," Gale says, lifting the bottle to his lips. "I'd rather spend midnight with you."

Katniss sat up a little straighter. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, come on, Catnip, you can't be that oblivious," Gale said. He looked over at her, and he seemed a little bit vulnerable.

"Oh," Katniss said quietly. She looked straight down into her red cup so that she wouldn't have to look at him. Although, she could already feel her cheeks heating up because _maybe _she wanted to spend midnight with him, too. "Then let's suppose that I want to, too."

Gale actually laughed out loud. "Want to _what?" _he teased.

"Please don't make me say any more," Katniss said. "You know I'm not good with this whole _feelings _thing."

Gale laughed again, but it was drowned out by the sound of a clock. The whole Undersee mansion seemed to go into silence as everyone found their partners and kissed for the new year.

And, with only a moment's hesitation, Katniss leaned forward and closed the distance between her and Gale. It was the first timed she'd ever kissed anyone at midnight…

And she wanted it to last far beyond the last strike of the clock.

* * *

**We'll Take a Cup of Kindness Yet (Katniss's pov) by Shirley-**

"Isn't this supposed to be some sort of celebration?" I say.

"It is," Gale says, reclining on the grass next to me. "That's why we're drinking." He raises an eyebrow at me and takes another drink from the bottle of the white liquor before passing it back to me.

"I know," I say, taking the bottle. "But don't they have, like, parties in the Capitol?"

"They're always having parties in the Capitol," he says.

I take a sip of the alcohol, and I let it burn. I look out at the darkening night sky. Before my eyes, the glittering stars turn into flashing lights. I can just imagine the Capitol at the peak of its party. Bright colors and glitter. Everything in excess- it's what they do best. Like Gale said, they like to party. I shut my eyes. It's hard to stomach, sometimes, that they live in a world where food- as well as everything else- is at their fingertips, and here in District 12, we choke on coal dust and fill our lungs with it just to get a meal.

"My dad used to make a big deal of it," I say quietly after a few moments, "when we were younger."

"What did you do?" Gale asks, taking the bottle back. For a second, I allow myself to think about what it was like then. What it was like to have a whole family. To be happy.

"Just stupid things. Like he'd save and get a little extra food," I say. "Maybe a gift or something special if we could spare it. He used to make us all write New Year's Resolutions."

"Like?"

"I don't know," I say. "They were silly things. Sometimes he'd promise to take me out to the forest more often."

Gale doesn't respond at first. He just stares at the night sky like he's memorizing the stars. Finally, he says, "What's your resolution this year, Catnip?"

"Same as every year. Keep Prim and mom alive."

"What about 'be happy,'" Gale suggests. "How about that?"

I laugh, but it comes out sounding bitter. "They can't be impossible, Gale."

"Maybe it's not impossible," he says. "It's a new year after all. Who knows what's in store."

I laugh again and take the bottle from him. I don't understand how something like that could change just because the earth made one more rotation around the sun, but who knows.

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

* * *

_A/N: I hope everyone had a terrific year, and I look for to an even better year to come! Let us know what you thought, and, as always, leave prompt ideas in your review or PM me! _


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Hello! I've decided to update the next installment of the winter break fanfiction challenge because I have absolutely nothing better to do. This is my second day snowed into my house, and I'm getting a little stir crazy..._

_Anyway, to fit my crazy mood, here's a crazy prompt. We literally wrote the names of all the characters from the Hunger Games that we could think of on little slips of paper and then we drew random pairings from a bucket. As it would turn on, Shirley and I are really bad at drawing quality random pairings. I kept drawing things that honestly were too weird to even think about (Darius/Cray), and Shirley kept drawing totally canon (or extremely plausible) pairings (Gale/Katniss, Gale/Madge, and Peeta/Katniss). But eventually we both drew pairings that were sufficiently random._

_Shirley wants to point out that she's not completely crazy, despite the fact that this is her second rape-y pairing that has come out of these fanfiction challenges. I think we can all forgive her, though ;)_

___Enjoy!_

* * *

_Prompt Six: Write about a random pairing drawn from a bowl. _

* * *

**Every Last Piece by Biffy-**

_{Johanna/President Snow}_

Johanna Mason, dressed in a luxurious red gown made by a well-known Capitol designer, marches into the office of President Snow's extensive mansion, a dark scowl already on her face (and he hasn't even said a word yet). Behind her, the doors are glided shut by an Avox with ghostly, unspoken words hanging on his silent lips: _The President wishes to speak with you, Miss Mason. _

Her arms cross over her chest like a protective barrier as her eyes sweep around the room. The President himself is nowhere to be seen, but they _are_ the middle of the Hunger Games. It could take him a moment to make his appearance. At least, that's what Snow's personal assistant told Johanna during the phone call they shared not ten minutes ago. "The President is a very busy man," the woman kept insisting in her little, admiration-filled voice. "The Hunger Games take quite the toll on his schedule."

At that, Johanna wanted to reach through the phone, rip the woman's vocals straight out of her throat, and listen to her drown in her own blood and misery. _The Hunger Games take a toll on all of us in the Districts, not the bloody President and his lapdogs. _She felt such fiery rage burning inside her, and the flames haven't been quenched (and perhaps never will be quenched). You see, it's Johanna's first Hunger Games as a mentor. These Games take more than a toll on her.

On the opposite side of the luxurious office, a hidden door opens from behind a bookshelf, and President Snow walks smoothly into the room. When he sees Miss Mason standing in the center of the room, he smiles gracefully and perhaps condescendingly at her. She's all dressed up like a doll for his collection. All is as it should be, expect her inconsiderate glaring.

"Good evening, Miss Mason," he says suavely. Behind his sugared words, there's a threat of pain and torture beyond belief. Like the scent of roses that masks the blood on his lips and hands.

"Cut the bullshit," Johanna says harshly. She stalks straight across the room to the mahogany desk that Snow is standing behind, her heels clicking against the hard wood, and leans down on her fists. There's a fire in her eyes. "What more can you possibly want from me?" she growls.

The smile stays on President Snow's lips, and he lets her question dissolve into the silence of the room. Outside, they can hear partying and music and excitement. The Capitol's in hysterics over the tribute parade and how perfectly all the little toys were dressed for their game.

Johanna practically blisters from her own rage. She rephrases the question. "What more can you possibly get out of me?"

Snow's smile grows incrementally more sickening. "Why are you asking me that question when you know there's so much more that I can take?"

"What's left?" Johanna asks, her eyes going towards the roof. There's a flicker of emotion hiding just behind the flames in her eyes, and her voice strains almost imperceptibly. "I have _nothing left_."

"Oh, if you had nothing left, I wouldn't have asked you here," Snow says, dismissing her comments with a wave of his hand. "If you had nothing left, you wouldn't be worth my time."

In that moment, Johanna wants to drop to her knees and beg to be left alone, but she knows that she can never do that. She has to be strong. She has to show him that he can't win everything. Her red-painted fingernails dig into the wooden desk, leaving little half-moon marks in the varnish.

She practically starts to growl. "If you think that just taking more is going to break me somehow—if you think that killing my family was a smart move to sedate me—"

Snow's hand waves her comments away again like they're smoke in the air. "The deaths of your family and friends were tragically arranged actions to make a point, Miss Mason. It had nothing to do with _sedating_ you; it was only a means of putting you Victors in your place."

Johanna's hands curl into fists once again, and she whips around on her heel, crossing her arms over her chest. She's reached that point of rage where she can't seem to form a coherent sentence that can properly express her fury at the President, the Capitol, and her circumstance in general. She feels like she's drowning in an ocean of total, encompassing rage, barely able to keep her head above the surface.

She nearly chokes on her words. "Answer my first question. What more do you want from me?" she accents every word. She knows she hasn't behaved like a perfect little puppet, but she hasn't done anything to act outright against the Capitol. Sure, she's been indignant and angry, but that's how most Victors come out of the Hunger Games. What's special about her? What has she done wrong? Why does he need to take more from _her_?

"You see, Miss Mason, it's not necessarily what _I _want from you," Snow says in a slow, even voice. "It's what everyone wants from you."

Johanna turns back around to face the President, her arms still crossed over her chest. The cogs are turning in her head.

Snow gestures loosely in the direction of the noise coming from outside the window. "They watch the Games, and it's nothing but a silly little game to them. They bet on their favorite tributes, and last year, the favorite happened to be you, Miss Mason. They bet on you because you were manipulative and strong. They liked that about you, and now they want a part of it. They _always _want a part of the Victor."

That's when Johanna Mason realizes the precise degree of her dispensability. She's not special. There's nothing unique about her—at least not to them. In the world of the Capitol, she will never be special or unique or different. She will only be the beautiful doll, all lined up in a little row with all the other toys of the President. They'll dress her up and make her smile, and she'll never be special again.

Because this happens to all the Victors. They are all stripped away until nothing remains.

"I'm sure you've met Finnick Odair, haven't you?" the President asks. Ever so slowly, he starts to make his way around the desk towards her.

She has met Finnick. He's a good guy. A good heart. But he's haunted.

"I can't tell you how badly they wanted him at first, right after the Games," he says, staring her hard in the eyes. Johanna realizes the crude meaning of the word _want._ "But he was just a boy. Only fourteen."

Johanna swallows slowly, and her throat starts to hurt. She looks pointedly downwards at the floor, memorizing the lush carpeting. She's heard rumors, of course, about the sex slavery in the Capitol. About how they buy and sell the Victors for the fun of it. So that they can have a piece. But Johanna had always thought they were just rumors.

"Dear Finnick still has so much to give, so much for them to take," Snow says slowly. He's only about a foot away from Johanna now. She can feel his blood and rose scented breath on her neck. "And so do you."

Johanna takes in a shaky breath, and she thinks about playing with dolls as a child (and how adults do it too).

"I told you a moment ago that it wasn't necessarily what I wanted from you, but that's a bit of a lie, isn't it?" President Snow says. His voice is right by Johanna's ear.

She wants to run away, but she can't. As much as she's a toy of the President, she's also a caged animal. She can't run, and even if she could, she wouldn't make it far before a Peacekeeper or Avox caught her.

"You see, everyone wants a piece of you, Miss Mason," Snow whispers. "But I always get the first bite of my cake."

It's a hollow punch in the gut that she can't recover from. She can't stop reeling, even when he takes her hand and starts to lead her towards the secret door behind the bookshelves.

In the eyes of the Capitol, Johanna Mason is not unique. She doesn't own anything, not even her own body. And one thing's for certain:

They're going to take _every last piece_.

* * *

**Yet Another Accidental Creepy Pairing by Shirley (except I didn't ask for this one) (Seneca Crane POV)-**

_{Seneca Crane/Katniss}_

The girl on fire- that's what they're calling her now. She's quite popular, that girl. Came out of the gate running by volunteering for her sister, and now, somehow she's managed to capture the heart of every citizen in the Capitol- and I can't claim to be an exception. I can't possibly pretend that she doesn't fascinate me as well, especially not now as I catch myself watching reruns of the interviews and the opening parade just to watch her.

On the screen now, she's shown running through the forests of the arena I created. For a second, I desperately wish that I could use what meager power I have to remove her, to pull her from the arena and keep her safe. It's not often that I allow myself to become so attached to one of the tributes. It's dangerous business, especially as Head Gamemaker. It's my job to kill the Capitol's darlings, to throw obstacles at their sweethearts. There will be so many opportunities, I'm sure. This Katniss Everdeen appears to have a knack for getting herself in trouble, so I'm sure I'll be shaping her time in the Games quite often.

I know it would be much too boring to leave her off by herself to survive while others fight, and we simply cannot have that. But I don't know if I'd have the heart to kill this one if it came down to it.

I supposed it must have been when she shot that arrow. That must have been the moment when she caught my attention and not just my eye. I couldn't tear my thoughts away from her. There was something different about this girl, I decided, but I couldn't quite put my finger on why. It wasn't until later that I realized I was, in a way, _attracted_ to her. It seemed absurd, entirely impossible, but yet when she sat on stage across from Caesar, wearing her flames and dripping with jewels, I was transfixed. I understood for a moment what it was like to be a normal citizen watching these Games. I wanted nothing more than for this girl to come out alive, and I knew, in that moment, that I'd cry when she died. Normally, I don't so much as bat an eyelash.

And now, here she is. So close to death it seems. There are countless dangers waiting in this arena to kill her.

The camera zooms in on her face as she hides in the trees and waits for the faces to appear in the sky, and I notice a difference. Gone is the girl wearing fire and jewels and makeup. That girl is gone and has been replaced by a fighter. A fighter with fearful eyes but gritted teeth.

But even without the costumes, she's still the girl on fire. She's got a spark, and I know already, barely hours into the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games, that she's going to set the world on fire.

* * *

_A/N: So hopefully we did an adequate job making these pairings seem at least a little bit plausible. It was kind of fun (and kind of awkward) to write about these random pairings, but hopefully you enjoyed them! I will update the last installment of the winter challenge as soon as I can manage! _


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Time for final update from the winter fanfiction challenge (I know, I'm sad, too). This prompt was actually an idea from the lovely and wonderful childrenofwisdomandlove! (hopefully you're still reading this story, and, if you are, please drop a review to let me know how you liked it! I really hope that it lives up to your expectations!) _

_Also, change of order this time! Shirley's story is coming first because she wrote the reaping, and I wrote the goodbyes. They're kind of sort of related, and I guess by some stretch of the imagination you could read this as one continuous story, but they don't flow together all that great... They're both packed full of angst because this is about Gale, so it sort of lent itself to becoming real heavy, real fast. _

_Try to enjoy, though! And, childrenofwisdomandlove, I hope this is what you wanted when you suggested this prompt! Much love!_

* * *

_Prompt Seven: Gale and another girl are reaped instead of Katniss and Peeta. Write a goodbye or a reaping scene._

* * *

**The Reaping (Gale's pov) by Shirley-**

My dad used to say that there's always good in everything bad if you look hard enough. I'd like to say that he's right and that his words always prove true, but I can't. If anything, my life is always proving it to be false. Maybe it's my fault for being such a cynic- but I wouldn't be like this if he hadn't been blown up in the mines. When he died, my heart turned to steel- unyielding and ultimately practical. In a life consumed with trying desperately to survive, there's no room for searching a dark room for a speck of light.

If I'd learned anything in the years since he died, I could come up with one single truth:

There's always bad in the good, and you never get to keep what's good unless you fight for it.

My name was in the reaping 42 times. How's that for fighting to keep what's good. It may have almost guaranteed the odds not being in my favor, but it gave my family extra food. And as far as I was concerned, that was my main purpose in life- feeding my family. I know my mother never quite understood my sick need to sign up for more and more tesserae, but Katniss did. Every year, I watched as the number of slips bearing her name increased, and it terrified me. That's hypocritical of me to say, but it won't stop me from feeling it.

I searched for Katniss's in the crowd. Her eyes found mine over top of all of the heads. She tried to send me a reassuring smile, but it never reached her eyes.

I suppose there were other faces I could have been looking for. Prim. Rory. The thought of Rory's name being on any of the slips in the reaping bowl hits me hard in the chest, and I almost can't breathe. Of course, I wouldn't ever let him sign up for tesserae, but it's still one slip. That's all it takes.

Some pretty blond thing was reaped for the girls. She didn't cry like most of them do. I barely had a second to hope desperately that it wasn't Katniss or Prim before Effie called the name. Audrey Coleman. I didn't even recognize her. She was one of those town kids- well fed and more privileged than most of us. She never would have signed up for tesserae. I guess it just wasn't her lucky day.

And it wasn't mine either, I guess.

Rory Hawthorne was written on the slip Effie Trinket pulled from the bowl. My little brother. The slip she held in her pink talons was the only slip in the entire bowl with his name, but there were forty-two hidden away with mine.

_Where's the good in that, dad?_ I thought. _Where's the bright side?_

It took a second, but I found one. One good thing about this.

I can volunteer.

Just two words. Two words to save my brother's life. Two words to end mine. There was nothing Rory could do about it. He couldn't stop me. But he tried. He dug his fingernails into my arm. Begged me not to. He tried to explain that he was less important, but I didn't hear a word.

Suddenly, Katniss was there, grabbing Rory, whispering something in his ear. There were tears in her eyes, but I know she was too proud to let them fall. "Go on," she said, and she nodded towards the stage. We turned away from each other. I faced the stage, and she faced my family.

I found them in the crown while I stood on stage. They were huddled together, looking pathetic and pitiable. Katniss was hugging Rory. _It's okay,_ I thought. _It'll be okay. Katniss will hold them together. It won't matter if I'm dead._

"Let the Hunger Games begin!" Effie announced cheerfully.

As the Peacekeepers dragged me and the girl towards the Justice Building, I couldn't stop myself from desperately thinking, _Where's the good in this, dad? I'm looking pretty damn hard, and I can't find the good_.

The door slammed shut between me and District 12, and I knew, once again, I'd proven him wrong.

_There's always bad in the good, and you never get to keep what's good unless you fight for it_.

Well, I'm ready to fight for it.

* * *

**Goodbyes [Gale's pov] by Biffy-**

Saying goodbye to my family fills my stomach with lead and puts a permanent pain in my throat. It isn't normal for me to be at a total loss for words, but I can't find anything to say that will adequately express how much I love them and how much this kills me.

Posy immediately runs in and throws her arms around my legs in a desperate hug. At four years old, she still doesn't quite understand what the Hunger Games are, but she has enough of an idea that she knows I'm leaving for a long time (and possibly forever). She lets out a strangled cry from the back of her throat, and it's like she's shoved a knife straight through my heart. It recalls a distant promise that I made a long time ago to never _ever _leave her.

I kneel so that I'm closer to eye level with her and try to wipe all the tears off her cheeks. "Posy, little princess, I'll be home real soon," I say, pulling her back into a hug against my chest. I catch my mother's eye and flinch away. They're such bitter, bitter lies. "It's alright. Everything will be alright."

For Posy, at least, that's the truth. If any of my family will get out of this okay, it'll be her. She's young enough that she can forget me still. Somewhere along the line of years, I'll be nothing but a few hardly-remembered memories at the back of her mind. She never knew her father, and, soon maybe, she'll forget she knew her eldest brother too.

My heart nearly claws its way out of my chest at the thought of that. But that's what's safest and best for her- the fact that she'll forget the pain of losing me. Maybe it'll make it easier for the rest of my family, too, if Posy doesn't have to carry the heavy weight of my death for the rest of her life.

I shake those thoughts out of my head because they're irrelevant in the present moment. Posy continues crying, and I know it would take more than the precious few minutes I have left to console her, so I'm forced to leave her in her pain. I stand up with her little arms still tightly wrapped around my waist and pull Vick into a hug.

He's still young, so if I die, hopefully he'll remain relatively untouched. He won't have to shoulder the weight of supporting the family or anything, so it'll just be him and the grief (if that's any comfort at all). I make him promise not to take out too much extra tesserae when the time comes, and he looks at me with a deep sadness in his young eyes. Has he heard through my voice that I've given up?

Looking at him again causes a twinge of pain in my chest, so I redirect my attention to Rory, who in this moment looks so much like me when I was twelve that it hurts terribly. I pull him into a rough hug.

"Ask Katniss to take you hunting," I say, much to my mother's dismay. I don't regret telling him though; he'll need to know how to hunt if my family is to survive after my death. Besides, there's a chance that he'll find solace in the forest just like I did when I was fourteen.

I put my hands on Rory's shoulders and hold him out in front of me. I see him also as a reflection in a mirror. He's a ghost of my younger self, and I see him growing up to be just like me before my very eyes. Handsome, rebellious, and strong. My eyes cast over my youngest brother, and I wonder just how much of an effect I've had over him in his twelve years. Have I had enough of an effect for him to model himself after me? And is it a good effect I've had over him?

And then, all of the sudden, it occurs to me that maybe I'm a terrible person for him to model himself after. What have I done in my life that's admirable? That's when I really see Rory turning into me. Too handsome, too rebellious, too dangerous.

I choke on whatever I was originally going to tell him. "Be good," I say forcefully, holding onto his shoulders a bit tighter. "Don't take it too hard."

I'm not sure why I decide those should be my parting words to Rory, but it's all I can think of before I move onto my mother.

She's the first one to move, pulling me against her chest before I can protest. I return the hug because I know that if I look into her eyes I'll see a soul-deep sadness buried there. She's stronger than iron, my mother, but I know it still gets to her. Not even Hazelle Hawthorne can be immovable. The loss of a husband and a son is a blow that's plenty strong enough to knock her off her feet, but I trust her to stay together.

"I love you, Gale," she whispers in my ear before I can pull back. Her voice sounds slightly strained. "I love you, no matter what. Please know that."

"I love you, too," I whisper back. "And I'm sorry."

I pull back before she can say more, and all my mother does is touch my cheek and offer me the sadness of smiles. It says more than words can possibly express. In her smile, I see the last four years. I see the grief, the laughter, the struggle, and the love. I see us becoming a team—something beyond just a mother and son. But most of all I see how much I'll be missed.

There's so much left unexpressed, but the door to this posh room flies open, and a Peacekeeper marches in without restrain. That's when the tears and screams come from all directions. I become as mad as a tornado, trying to fit in a final goodbye and a last touch, but it's all in vain. My family is gone within the minute, and I'm totally alone.

For a moment.

The door is almost immediately reopened by a small figure. I've hardly recognized who it is before Katniss has thrown her arms around my neck. This touching is totally uncharacteristic for her, but it's not unwelcome. I think I've known for some time now that I feel more for her than just friendship, but I've had no way to express it without fearing the loss of our understanding of each other.

Katniss lets me just hold her for a second, which is something I truly appreciate. I think she only meant for our hug to last for a brief second, but she must have felt the desolation in the air around me because she allows me to tether myself to her for longer than she'd have liked.

After we've hit the limit of wasted time, Katniss pulls back and looks up at me very seriously. "You're coming home," she says very simply.

I let out a bitter laugh before I can control myself. "Come _on, _Katniss. I can't make promises like that. You can't possibly know that I'll come home."

A world of hurt swirls in her silvery eyes. "But you'll do your absolute best to come back. Promise me."

I know what she's getting at. She's trying to tell me that she doesn't care if I turn into a murdering lunatic. "I don't—"

"Promise me, Gale," she says harshly. "I _need _it."

It's the look in her eyes that gets me to concede. "I promise I'll do my best."

"Thank you," she says, deflating slightly. I don't know what prompts her to do it, but she falls back against me and throws her arms tight around my waist. "Now you absolutely have to keep your word to me."

I can't help but chuckle. "I'll come back, no worries. Even if it is in a casket."

Her body goes totally rigid, and she shoves me away. I know I've hit some nerve immediately because tears actually appear in her eyes, which is something I've only seen a few times from Katniss. Needless to say, I regret saying it the instantly it settles in the air.

"Don't say that," she says, her voice harsh and rough. "Please don't say that."

"I'm sorry… I didn't mean—"

"How will I survive without you?" she asks loudly.

I don't know if she means that practically or figuratively, but I don't give myself the time to think about it. Before she can get another word out, I grab her waist and capture her lips with my own. I expect her to shove me away or fight back, but she practically melts into my embrace. I hold onto her so tightly that I'm almost afraid I'll break her, but I desperately need something to hold onto. Something to hold me up. I want to kiss her harder and harder, but that's when I notice that she's shaking.

I pull back instantly, and Katniss bursts into tears.

She staggers backwards a couple steps and falls down on the couch, burying her face in her hands. It's not like Katniss to cry or show weakness in any form, but the evil of the Capitol seems to be the only thing that can bring her to her knees.

"Gale, what are we going to do now?" she asks, her voice thick with tears. "How am I going to survive? How are _you _going to survive?"

I try to come up with answers to impossible questions, but Peacekeepers pound at the door, cutting off my thoughts. "Two minutes," the man on the other side of the door barks.

Panicking about my lack of time, I kneel down in front of Katniss, swallowing back all the bad things and trying to maintain an air of happiness. That is what will help me survive—I can't let the depression consume me. I have to stay above it all.

I drop my hands down onto Katniss's knees. "I want you to smile one more time."

She lifts her face out of her hands with a quizzical look. "_Smile?"_

"For me," I say. I'm surprised when I sound like I'm begging. "I can't leave you with tears in your eyes."

She looks pained. "Gale, I—"

There's another pound at the door, and my hands go back to her knees, holding onto her for support.

"Smile when you say goodbye at the train station," I beg. "I want that to be my last image of you. The last thing I see before the District fades away will be your face, and you will be smiling."

Katniss takes in a shaky breath.

"Promise me," I say.

More tears appear at the corners of her eyes.

"I promised you I'd try my best to come home," I say. "You must promise me this."

She opens her mouth to respond, but the door bursts open, the Peacekeepers go directly towards her. In a flash, they're dragging her out the door, and I hear her scream something that sounds vaguely like "I promise!"

/

And when I get to the platform, she's smiling at me with as much joy as she can muster, and that's what I see when everything else fades away.

* * *

_A/N: As always, thanks so much for reading, and I would love to hear what you thought! Since this is the final installment from the winter challenge, there might not be an update very soon, but please give us ideas for prompts anyway! Who knows? Maybe some odd weekend we'll do a challenge just for fun :D _

_Also, because this is such heavy Gale-angst, I didn't have the heart to reread it, so please let me know if there are errors in either of these! Thanks so much! _


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